


Committed

by HanHan_Solo156



Category: Rammstein
Genre: A glimpse to the past, Arguments, Dreams, Family Dinner, Gen, abusive family member, mild violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:41:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24959335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HanHan_Solo156/pseuds/HanHan_Solo156
Summary: “Never,” Richard hissed, “and never I will accept you as my dad, you snake.”An already awkward family dinner turns into a warzone when Richard and his stepdad argue over the future, Richard’s appearance, and career choices. Something precious will be destroyed that night, crystallizing their hatred towards each other.However, stubborn and determined, Richard refuses to submit to a man that has made him suffer enough.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 18
Collections: Rammstein - Flashback - June prompt





	Committed

**Author's Note:**

> Another monthly challenge! This time with the theme "pre-Rammstein". As always, I perhaps took a bit of personal freedom and decided to go far back to the past, to Richard's teenage years. This fic is inspired by the infamous KISS poster incident with his stepdad, but with stuff I made up myself as it's not meant to be a precise summary of real life events. I have a weird fascination for ruined family dinners and this fic has taken some inspiration as well from my favorite movies Whiplash and American History X that have heart-breaking, yet brilliant family dinner scenes.
> 
> As always, even though the characters and events have their inspiration from real life, it's not meant to hurt anyone or intrude too much into anyone's personal life - the story is just a creation of one little writer's imagination.  
> Small warnings for coarse language and mild violence.

~***~

_The spirit of greatness lies in dedication._

_Never give up._

~***~

The steady hand drew a careful line around blue-grey eyes. Richard put the pen aside and studied his familiar features that now had a new, exciting twist: the black eyeliner contrasted his eyes such in a beautiful way. Maybe a bit flamboyant, but for a 15-year-old teenager, raised in the strict East German culture, looking a little provocative was pushing the boundaries just in the right way. The cherry on top was his clothing: a vest with red check patterns accompanied by tight leather pants and combat boots.

A proud smile was forming on Richard’s face: he had to admit he looked absolutely terrific. Even though make-up was considered as a “girly” thing Richard couldn’t care less. Since the first time he had been introduced to the band KISS something had kindled inside the young man. Seeing four musicians who didn’t mind how silly they looked or what others thought about them had changed Richard’s life.

That day Richard had decided it: he wanted to be a professional musician, wanted to reach the stars - and no one was going to stop his plans. 

“Sven!” his mom shouted from downstairs, waking his son up from his thoughts and self-admiration.

Sighing when his mom still called him with his old and ridiculous name, Richard shouted back: “Yes, Mama, what is it?”

“Can you go and help your dad with the groceries? He just came from the shop and needs help.” Some rattling of the pans and pots could be heard as she was busy making dinner for their guests who were arriving at any minute.

 _He’s not my dad._ Richard was sure he would never accept his mom’s new fiancé Kurt as his family member but obviously, he wasn’t the one to judge with whom his mom was allowed to be with. Richard and Kurt were arch-enemies, but at least recently they had managed to avoid each other just enough not to be annoyed by the other. 

“Ok, ein Augenblick,” Richard replied and rushed downstairs, careful not to show his face to his mom who was luckily concentrating on making the sauce for the evening’s turkey. Even though his mom was more acceptable than his stepdad, Richard didn’t want to raise any questions or be asked to wash his face after all the effort.

When he had just barely stepped to the front yard, Richard was greeted by a dour command: “Take those bags inside.” Kurt didn’t even bother to turn around to see his son when he opened the back trunk of the car. “And be quick, no daydreaming.”

Without wanting to get into any trouble, Richard simply nodded and started lifting the heavy shopping bags inside. The stepfather’s and his son’s eyes didn’t meet at any point which was completely fine for Richard. The last thing he wanted was Kurt to complain about every single goddamn detail, as he often did. Whatever Richard did usually made the man just more annoyed than he already was, so this nonchalant acting between them was a nice change.

But with the last shopping bag, Richard didn’t notice Kurt was just behind him before he was forcefully turned around. “Wait a minute, let me see your face...”

Richard backed away and gritted his teeth. “Can’t you see that I’m busy? You asked me to carry the bags and I did what you asked so what’s the problem now?”

Like his son Kurt was stubborn and with a quick step forward grabbed Richard from his shoulder, his short but sharp nails digging into the skin. His eyes narrowed when he looked at the teenager properly. “What… what on earth has happened to your face?” He looked at the boy from head to toe. “And why are you dressed like those... homosexuals or whatever those perverts are called nowadays?”

The sensitive teenager didn’t meet the cold eyes of his accusing family member so instead, he just shook himself off from the grip. “None of your business. I’m not a baby anymore so I have every right to look as I want.”

“Sven, how many times we have discussed this,” Kurt lectured like a teacher, pointing a finger at his son. “Jesus, it’s a family gathering, you can’t look like a clown!”

Richard wasn’t sure whether he should laugh or cry now. The tempest was about to begin even though the guests hadn’t even arrived yet. “Are you deaf or how many times I have to repeat that it’s _not_ your freaking business how _I_ look.”

“Mind your language, young man, or I swear...”

To Richard’s luck, his cousins’ car appeared just at the right time on their front yard and Kurt moved his attention to them instead of his son’s fashion choices. He flashed the one last look before Richard hurried back inside.

_I’ll show you some manners, you arrogant little brat._

~***~

It wasn’t a surprise that the turkey was dry. No matter how hard she had tried Richard knew his mom still was a terrible cook. 

“Birgit, this is stunning!” one of the distant cousins, whose name Richard didn’t even remember, exclaimed artificially enthusiastically. “How did you cook it? I need the recipe as well, it’s delicious!”

Another discussion about the food no one was interested in started while Richard just kept chewing the rubbery piece. He just hoped this could be over soon and he could practice his guitar playing before 10 pm - his stepdad had only allowed certain times for the playing. Annoying, but at least better than nothing.

The same cousin who had just finished talking with Birgit turned to Richard’s horror to him. “So, Sven.”

“I’m called Richard nowadays.”

“Umm, right.” The middle-aged woman looked baffled and she cleared her throat. “So... Richard, what are you planning to do when you are an adult? Any certain profession in your mind when you are finished with school, hmm?” the woman asked, lousy to hide her curiosity. She was a lady of gossips, especially about family members - no matter how distant. “Birgit told me you have a particular interest in music.” The sentence was said in a slightly derogatory tone. In this family, the only true way to live was to work in a factory or such, do something useful for the country - and music was considered something far from being useful.

Richard put his fork and knife aside and glanced over the woman’s shoulder. “I… I might have thought about something, yes.”

Now, even Kurt’s curiosity was ignited. He stopped eating and without saying anything, leered at his son on the other side of the table afraid of what might be coming next. They hadn’t discussed future career choices yet but somehow Kurt was sure his son’s wishes weren’t the most optimal ones.

Richard cleared his throat, seemingly awkward when everyone’s attention was placed on him. “I, well…” he started and lowered his head, looking at the plate with unfinished food. “I want… want to be… a musical artist.”

“And what kind of an artist?” the cousin kept asking. “Composer perhaps? Or a player in the military orchestra?”

“A rockstar,” Richard simply replied, without explaining any further.

Silence landed by the table, even the noises of forks and knives stopped. Somebody coughed and Richard ran a hand through his hair. _Verdammt. Of course, you shouldn’t have said it out loud, these fossils would never understand._

Eventually, the atmosphere was broken when Kurt sneered, not even bothering to hide the flippant tone when he added: “Sven, you are already 15 so you probably should get your head off from the clouds.” He smiled apologetically to everyone. “Entschuldigung, he is still young so he doesn’t understand how the world works yet. But he is in training.”

Before the adults thought they had a chance to move on Richard replied without hesitation: “Maybe _you_ should shut your mouth, at least for once.” He somehow managed to keep a steady tone even though he was shaking from fury. “Besides, I don’t want to be called Sven anymore. It’s Richard. R-I-C-H-A-R-D. A name I chose myself, so you should respect my wishes.” 

“You are not the one telling me how I should behave. Watch that arrogance or it’s gonna be the death of you one day,” Kurt said, hoping the discussion would end here. He took a forkful of potatoes and turkey and mumbled something about the food being delicious.

Richard though didn’t want to change the subject this easily when his dreams had been mocked. He pointed at his stepfather with a knife. “Well, what if maybe this so-called _arrogance_ would someday lead me somewhere in this life unlike you. Making choices myself instead of listening to what failed morons like you say. To actually change things and progress.”

Kurt moved his furious gaze from his plate to his son. “How many times I have said to mind your language young man? How dare you speak to me like that!”

“Dessert, anyone?” It was Birgit who tried to save the situation but it was too late - two bulls were already in fighting stances and nothing was going to stop them when they had a solid start. The whole atmosphere of the family dinner had changed from awkward to belligerent only in minutes.

Richard stood up and without noticing it his voice got louder. “All my life you have told me how I should be! Who are you to define what is right and what is wrong, huh?” He moved to the other side of the table, wanting to smack the man so hard straight in the face. “But guess what? It just doesn’t work. Nothing you try on me works, so maybe you should just admit you have lost.”

Kurt stood up as well when an uncomfortable fact hit him: his son, now in front of him, was the same height, most likely soon exceeding him. The roles were changing and Kurt was doing everything he could do to avoid his son to have the high ground in this already fucked-up family. “Show some manners, for Christ’s sake. One day you will thank me, son,” he stated with a voice as calm as he could.

“ _Never_ ,” Richard hissed, “and never I will accept you as my dad, you snake.”

Different hues of red flashed on Kurt’s face when he said: “Is that ridiculous make-up making you saying things like that or what on earth is going on?” 

Only inches away from his so-called dad, Richard said: “You know what?” His chin was up and he looked like he was either going to hit or spit on the man’s face - maybe both. 

“ _Fuck you._ ” 

Then, as nothing had happened Richard backed away and sat to his place proceeding with the dinner even though he wasn’t hungry anymore. At the same time, he tried to hide the shaking of his hands.

Kurt had frozen to his place and just kept blinking. Someone in the table - perhaps, Richard’s older brother - let out a muffled chuckle. But for Kurt, this was lightyears from being anything funny. His authority in this family had been questioned - and the cause of it had to be punished.

For a while Kurt kept clenching his hands into fists, trying to process what to do next. Richard didn’t mind though - he had been hit a million times before so he wasn’t afraid of what was coming next. 

_I’m ready for anything, you asshole. You have no right to oppress me and I did nothing wrong._

Kurt got back into his senses and just when the dessert was about to come, he grabbed Richard from his nape. On purpose, he pinched the skin so hard Richard grimaced.

“What the hell are you doing?” Richard fidgeted when he was dragged like a limp rag along the floor. “Let me go, you idiot!”

“This is only your fault, so shut up,” Kurt hissed. “You asked for this.”

In the dining room no one dared to say anything - they just kept eating like the episode between Kurt and Richard hadn’t happened. Some of them wondered should they intervene somehow but were too afraid to do so. They all knew that Kurt was an old-fashioned man with an appreciation for old-fashioned manners his stepson didn’t respect.

“Umm, there’s still dessert in case… someone wants,” Birgit announced with a faint voice, biting back tears.

~***~

In the upstairs, the door of Richard’s room slammed followed by a shout: “YOUNG MAN, NOW YOU HAVE GONE TOO FAR!”

With a furious movement, Kurt threw Richard to the floor resulting in the teenager hitting his head. For a while, the world was blurry in front of Richard’s eyes and he had to squint hard to see what was going on.

“You son of a bitch, what the hell were you thinking? You should show some respect!” Kurt kept yelling, losing the last residuals of his cool. All of his pride had been taken by the arrogant teenager and now he didn’t bother the slightest bit what the guests must have thought about him. “EXPLAIN! WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?”

When the only answer was a smug grin from Richard, Kurt slammed his son hard on the cheek - nothing new, so Richard just grimaced. He acted like he didn’t care even though he saw stars in front of his eyes.

Another hit. “ANSWER ME!” And even a harder one. “OR ARE YOU _EIN SCHWULER_!” Most of the time, Kurt minded his language and tried to be so sophisticated but his guards were now down.

Rubbing his sore cheek, Richard spat out a hint of blood to the floor. “I’d gladly suck a guy’s dick if it would allow me to get rid of you _forever_.” He had to concentrate now on breathing because he didn’t want to faint - that would have meant Kurt had won and that joy Richard wasn’t willing to give to the man who was ruining him and his whole family. “I’d be more than happy to do it. Anything, to upset you as you make all of our lives like hell. I have no clue what mom sees in you.”

The words were pure venom and hit Kurt right into the guts. Richard was so used to physical violence that even Kurt realized he didn’t have any chance of using his old tricks against his son anymore. 

“You… you…” Kurt tried to form something to say, but words just kept hanging on the tip of his tongue, not coming out.

In the end, he simply stated: “You… you will be arrested for the rest of the week.”

“Sounds perfectly fine,” Richard said and moved to lie on his bed, putting his arms behind his head. There was a content grin on his face when he stared at the roof. “At least if I don’t have to look at your ugly face anymore everything’s fine.”

But Kurt didn’t want to let his son go this easily. 

Next to the bed rested an acoustic guitar - Richard’s dear souvenir from the West that had cost a fortune. His precious.

When Kurt reached his hand for the instrument, Richard sat up and spread his hands to cover the guitar. A slight worry aroused in him. “Don’t you dare to touch this.”

But without any reaction, Kurt just pushed his son away and took the guitar. 

“No, you are not fucking touching it, it’s mine, I bought it myself!” Richard yelled and tried to grab his stepdad’s arm resulting only in another violent push back to the floor. Richard got so dizzy he couldn’t stand up even though how much he would have wanted to rip the man’s eyes out. This was going way too far now.

By the door, Kurt stopped - there was Richard’s other dear object: a poster of KISS.

“This influence from the West, all of these rockstars,” Kurt said with a sigh. “These are ruining you.” He glanced at the poster with a look that didn’t promise any good. “But I’ll make it sure it ends right here, right now.” 

With wide eyes, Richard kept panting on the floor. “W-what?” His former arrogant tone had changed into a meek one - like he was once again a lost little toddler who had wetted his bed and was getting punished for it.

Turning to his son the one last time Kurt said the ominous words: “You will thank me later.”

When he heard a violent tear all the blood in Richard’s body froze. The flight-or-fight mode was turned on within seconds and despite the nausea, he stood up like a spring, grabbing Kurt’s arm hard. “No, no, NO, FUCKING NO!” Richard yelled in desperation and pressed the arm even harder. “Hit me with a belt, humiliate me, or anything, but please not my poster, PLEASE!”

Richard’s pleas went to deaf ears and on purpose, Kurt tore up the picture in a thousand pieces and scattered them around the room like confetti in a concert. 

His beloved poster that had cost Richard all of his savings after buying the guitar was now completely ruined. “WHY DID YOU HAVE TO DO THAT! WHY!?”

“As I said earlier, you will thank me later,” Kurt said with a voice so cold and made sure the guitar was still with him. “I’ll take this with me so you’d maybe finally start considering some other life than this useless music that is only harming you."

Kurt looked at his son on the floor and said his last words before he left: “And be sure to clean this mess up.”

“I HATE YOU!”

The door slammed and got locked leaving Richard so alone - both physically and mentally. The last thing that had kept him sane in his crazy family had been violently ripped off. His religion, his passion, his everything: _music_.

Utterly defeated Richard rolled himself into a fetal position and kept crying until his head started to ache. 

“I hate you, I hate you… why did you have to do that,” he repeated behind his sobs rolling back and forth on the hard floor. “Why… why my life has to be this miserable?” From his pocket, he found a dirty napkin and blew his nose. “I want to get out… I need to get out of this hellhole, for fuck’s sake...”

More than anything Richard would have wanted to channel his anger: hit something so hard his knuckles would bleed to death but he didn’t have any energy left - he was completely drained.

What could he even do next? The door was locked, so Richard couldn’t even go to the bathroom. It was dangerous to jump out of the second floor so his room had become his prison. _Fucking hell._

After minutes - or hours, Richard didn’t know as he had lost the sense of time - the crying subsided enough and he wiped his swollen eyes. Careful not to look at the miserable sight of pieces of paper on his floor, Richard crawled to his bed and buried himself into the blankets even though the room was warm. 

_Fuck Kurt, fuck my life, fuck this miserable world._ Disappearing from this planet, sinking into the sweet oblivion would have been perfect right now. 

But of course, Richard couldn’t sleep or even doze off with so much adrenaline still left. The absence of the guitar also made him insecure. What if he couldn’t even get it back ever? Shivers ran through his spine and all kinds of thoughts swirled in his head. Richard accused himself of what had happened: if he would have been just meekly following Kurt’s orders, ignoring his judging, maybe this mess wouldn’t have happened in the first place. Maybe the dinner would have gone just fine: he could now be practicing his music, with the poster still hanging on his door. _Maybe._ So many what-ifs.

Things that had happened couldn’t be reversed so here he was: alone, locked into his room, without anything to do besides swimming in his disturbing thoughts. _How fucking great._

With all of his pondering an insane idea popped up to his mind, first vaguely.

_You must have gone insane, Richard._

But when he thought about it more, it started to sound better and better.

Kurt had said to clean the mess up but he hadn’t precisely commanded Richard to throw the pieces of the poster away. _What if…? Could it be possible?_

_Why not to try. Or any better ideas?_

A fire was lit up inside Richard and despite his anger and sorrow, the determination hadn’t abandoned him. _I know what I must do._ He stood up from the bed and took tape and glue from his desk. He would follow Kurt’s command and clean the mess, yes - but in _his_ way. 

Like an impossible puzzle, Richard started gathering the pieces of the paper: he crawled under his bed catching all the dust there, searched the trash can, and turned around every piece of furniture in the room. It must have looked ridiculous, but right now it was his least concern. Richard wanted to get his KISS poster back at all costs. 

Slowly but steadily, the familiar figures started to form as Richard carefully taped and glued the pieces back together. _You can do this._ _Keep going._ And hell, he would keep going even though it meant he’d spend the rest of the arrest gluing until his fingers were sore.

Nothing else mattered - Richard had a task to do and he wouldn’t stop before he was ready.

When the clock on the wall showed 5 am the first time that night Richard smiled genuinely, admiring the poster back in his hands. Even though it wasn’t in its former glory and notably tore up before, it didn’t matter. Like a phoenix from the ashes, Richard had restored both the poster and his dignity.

A single tear from his eye dropped to the poster. It had literally been repaired with tears and blood. The picture was even more beautiful than ever and Richard had just realized how much it mattered to him.

Just in case of another argument with Kurt, Richard folded the picture neatly and hid it under his mattress. He felt content: thanks to the commitment, his stepdad hadn't won this round.

One thing was sure: until his last breath, Richard was determined that nothing and no one would step on his toes and ruin things that were important to him. If it meant he would go insane and be alone for the rest of his life, he was willing to pay the price.

Because this was _his_ life and _his_ path to walk.

And he was the only one who knew what was best for him.

~***~


End file.
